Thursday, March 16, 2006

POEM - Surfaces

Which are the rocks
I must turn over
If I am to find a life

Frothy with intent?
Which packed dirt trails
Must I explore,

Wrestle to the ground
To make my way?
All my living

Seems an expansive
Stretch – some
Manifest destiny

Of a soul’s right
To always be more
Than what it has a right to –

The returned quiet
From all my questions
Is God’s voice to me.

Just below surfaces
Where no one ever looks
Is where things get lost

And where I get found
among things that await discovery
Which are the rocks




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